


The Power of You and Me

by dizzy



Series: Trip and Stumble [9]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had three magnificent beta readers this time around, so you can thank Mav, Scott, and Jude for this actually being a coherent, non-grammatically offensive story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Power of You and Me

The best part of the day for Chris has become coming home. 

In high school he would have said the same thing, but with a bitter twist; home wasn’t amazing, not in the general sense of the town that he lived in being home. Outside of his parents house it wasn’t even good most of the time. Home with his parents, his _actual_ home, was better. If he’d told his parents half of the misery he endured at school he’s sure they would have tried harder to make up for it, but he never particularly wanted to wallow in that particular way. Home was where he was left alone to escape when he wanted. Home was where he didn’t have to worry about being slammed into walls or being ridiculed or made fun of. Telling his parents would have made it somehow more of a reality, and his young mind felt like that’s not what home was supposed to be tainted with. 

Home was also worrying about Hannah, seeing her sick and hearing her cry out in pain, hearing his parents arguing and crying together. Sometimes home hurt worse than school, but in a different way. 

But now home just means Darren - usually there waiting in a physical sense, sometimes not. Even when he’s not there he’s still there, though. Chris can lay down on top of the covers on their bed and look around and everywhere his eyes land is Darren. The scent on the pillows, the clothes strewn over the floor, the guitar case and the mic stand and the violin and the harmonica and a few other instruments that Chris isn’t even sure he can actually name. 

There is sheet music stacked onto a desk, a calendar jammed packed with messy scrawling, and a computer with so many band stickers on it that the original casing is only visible in tiny little glimpses. It all screams Darren in such an unassuming way.

Today, home means walking into an apartment that smells like chicken marsala. Darren has gotten it into his head that he needs to learn how to cook. So far, his experiments only have about a forty percent success rate, but Chris doesn’t actually mind being the guinea pig. Sometimes it means dinner is salvaged broccoli smothered in cheese, or bread dipped in pasta sauce, but it’s still fun. He likes when he makes it back in time to help, like today. 

There are only a couple of weeks left until the new semester starts, and with summer winding to a close he wants to enjoy these moments free of class and homework stress. The past month has been spent with two summer history courses and one science to round out his core requirements. He knows even with the long, frequent class meetings, those have been a breeze in comparison to what he’ll be going through when he gets into the degree-heavy subjects... especially if he follows his gut instinct to declare a theater minor of some sort. 

Darren is wearing a ridiculous apron and he’s got a spoon in his hand. “Come taste,” he instructs Chris as soon as Chris walks into the kitchen. 

Chris dumps his messenger bag onto the table and dutifully steps forward. He lets Darren tip the spoon forward and then rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth thoughtfully. “More pepper,” he decides. 

“Thanks.” Darren slides an arm around Chris and leans in to kiss him. “How’d your thing go?” 

“Not bad,” Chris leans back against the counter, pulling his phone from his pocket to check it. “She had some good things to say about my assignment. Is that wine over there for cooking or...” 

“Or.” Darren goes back to the sauce he’s trying to perfect. “Actually, can you stick it in the fridge for me?” 

“Isn’t it early for dinner?” Chris asks. “Or is it just us?” 

“There’s more for later, I think the guys are coming over. We’re brainstorming this tv show idea. This is just the test piece,” Darren says. “Which means I happen to be in need of a taste tester. Wanna split it between us? You can even have the big half, since you’re obviously starving.” 

“Yes, please.” Chris’s mouth is watering at the smell. He’s gotten decent at spotting the failures in the making, but this looks like it could actually be good. 

It is. Darren plates the single chicken breast. “I’ve got some linguine to make later if this turned out okay.” 

Chris is already hacking at the chicken with his fork to get a bite. Darren rolls his eyes and hands him a knife too. Chris doesn’t need it; the fork attack worked just fine and he’s happily chewing. “This is really good,” he says, surprise in his voice. 

“Of course it is!” Darren pretends to be insulted but he doesn’t pretend very well because after only few seconds of the pout his face lights up, that look he gets when he gets praised and it means something to him, something more than a platitude. “Hope everyone else likes it, too.” 

“I hope they don’t,” Chris says. “More for me.” 

*

Dinner is a hit. There is a whole lot of feigned disbelief and eventual praise over Darren’s growing prowess in the kitchen, which Darren soaks up. 

They go through three bottles of bottom shelf wine ( _classing it up, assholes,_ Darren says) while Dylan and Chris run lines with each other. Darren tries out some of his new music for the show on them, and Joey is happily distracted from the fact that a date has apparently blown him off at the last minute. 

They’re arguing the merits of a fourth bottle when Brian gets in and when the first words out of his mouth are, “I need a drink,” they consider it decided. 

A drink for Brian turns into a few more for all of them; Chris is seriously considering whether or not his college career is turning into a lesson in alcohol overindulgence. Then he reminds himself that he has four years of high school rebellion to make up for. He’s pretty good at knowing his limits by now - especially after the night at the cabin that still turns his stomach to think about. 

A phone beeps and all of them check to see if it belongs to them but it is Chris that groans when he sees that his battery is dying. He uses a hand on Darren’s thigh as leverage to lift himself off of his comfy spot on the couch to go plug it in. He’s barely out of the room before there is a tussle amongst floor-sitters to claim it. He’s sure Darren tries valiantly to defend it for him, but if so then he fails at it because when Chris comes back, Joey is now smushed in between Darren and Joe where Chris formerly was. 

(There is also a chance that Darren was bribed. Darren is very susceptible to bribes. Chris knows this firsthand - though hopefully no one else thought to offer blowjobs.)

Chris tries out his pouty face in an attempt to win back the stolen spot on the couch until he thinks Joey might be about to crack. Then Joey looks back down at the floor and announces, “Wow, my butt really _is_ numb. It is actually still numb.” and Chris knows he’s lost momentum there. 

“C’mon. This seat right here‘s got your name on it.” Darren pats his lap and Chris makes sure everyone hears his painstaking sigh before he sits down in it. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” Chris says. Then he wiggles a little bit extra, feeling the vibrations of Darren’s chuckle. 

“Speaking of...” Dylan holds up his script pages and waves them around, getting Chris’s attention. “Ready to go again?” 

Dress rehearsal is the next day, Friday. The actual show is Saturday. Chris feels light-headed with nerves every time he thinks about it. He’s been on a stage before, but it honestly never really mattered. There just weren’t people back home that he felt like he really wanted to impress. He didn’t even tell his parents half of the time when there was a community theater show coming up. He sort of assumed that they’d have more important things on their minds, and mostly he was right. They never really got the acting thing and he’s sure they would have acted proud of him even if all he’d done had been waltz onto the stage and then fall flat on his face, but the idea of facing their pasted on smiles and knowing it wasn’t sincere hadn’t appealed to him. He didn’t have friends, people not related to him, coming just to see him. Well, not just him, but he’s a big part of the reason. If he fucks up, they’ll let him know. If he’s got stuff to learn, they’ll teach him. If he does good and they praise him, they’ll _mean_ it. 

He leans over to grab his off the table and pretends not to feel Darren palming his ass. “Ready.”

*

Chris scrubs his palm across the two days growth of stubble on Darren's cheek. "Lazy," he teases, bending low to press a kiss. to his jaw Darren mutters something under his breath and slowly blinks himself awake. 

It’s past ten at night, later than Chris normally comes in. Darren is stretched out on the couch still fully dressed, looking sleepily up at him. "Shit, I was waiting up."

"You didn't need to." Chris drops his bag onto the other end of the couch, to be forgotten about until the following morning. "Come on, let's get in bed."

“I’m an old man, I can’t believe I fell asleep before ten.” Darren is muffling a yawn even as he shakes his head. "I wanna hear about dress rehearsal."

“Considering you didn’t get to sleep until 4 last night, I’m not shocked. Who won the Halo tournament, anyway? I could still hear you playing after I went to bed.” 

“Walker,” Darren scowls. “He cheated. I think he brought in a ringer. But don’t change the subject. The dress rehearsal?”

"We rehearsed. In dress. Then we all went out to dinner. Now come on, bed." Chris orders.

"Smart ass." Darren gets to his feet and stretched, back popping. "Aw, fuck. That felt good."

Inside the bedroom, Darren sprawls out starfish style on top of the covers while he watches Chris undress.

Chris still feels self conscious. He can't imagine ever not feeling this way, even when he has ample proof that Darren approves of his body. He stares at his reflection in the fogged over mirror sometimes and thinks he prefers it like that, where he can’t see the baby fat still rounding his face out, the skinny chest and arms. It’s better, though; he can see a difference a couple of hours at the gym are making, and the difference that just comes with being a more active person. He’s thinking of taking up running with Joey, maybe, if he can convince himself to give up the lure of a warm Darren-filled bed in the mornings. 

“Taking too loooooong,” Darren sings out. 

Chris laughs and turns around. “You’re not even undressed.” 

Darren holds his hands out in a giving gesture. “I bestow upon you the honor.” 

“Right.” Chris rolls his eyes but trudges over to the bed and kneels with his calves along Darren’s thighs, bracketing them. He unbuttons Darren’s shirt and then pushes it aside but doesn’t try to maneuver it off of Darren yet. Instead he pushes the t-shirt Darren is wearing underneath up until he can lean down and press his lips to the warm, soft skin of Darren’s stomach. 

“Oh,” Darren says, surprised. “I like where this is going.” 

Chris kisses down, a few seconds of firm pressure with each one. He breathes in the smell of Darren, sweet and a little muskier the further south he goes. He lets his cheek rest just under Darren’s belly button while he undoes Darren’s pants and pushes them down to his thighs. Darren is still mostly soft but hardening; Chris mouths at him through the stretched-tight material of his boxer briefs. 

Chris laughs. “These are mine, aren’t they?” 

“Mhm.” Darren is unapologetic. He props himself up on his elbows and looks down just as Chris snags the waistband of the underwear with his fingertips and tugs down. “I like how this is going, but...” 

Chris looks up. He’d been about two seconds away from taking Darren into his mouth. “Why is there a but on that statement? Do you really need to qualify it?” 

“Uh. Um. Nope.” Darren flops back down, wisely rethinking whatever he’d been about to say. “Continue on, my good sir.”

Chris sucks a stinging mark onto Darren’s hip in punishment for the disruption. It makes Darren gasp and squirm and Chris wonders if he can talk Darren into wearing tighter jeans the following day just to make sure he keeps feeling it. 

“Fuuuck,” Darren says. “Please?” 

He’s mostly hard now, dick filling even more when Chris rubs his lips over the tip and dips his tongue just into the slit to taste the precome and let it smear around stickily. Then he stops teasing and takes more of Darren in, eyes slipping shut as he relaxes into the now-familiar movements of the blowjob, changing it up sometimes but knowing what Darren likes. Darren is never shy about saying what he wants - it’s all _fuck_ and _right there_ and _suck me just a little bit now, just like, oh, fuck, yeahhh_. He gets his hands in Chris’s hair (doesn’t pull, Chris doesn’t like that, that’s Darren’s thing) and guides and when he starts getting close one knee draws up so he can plant his foot and start to thrust in shallowly. His jeans are still on but they’re in the way now so they stop and shove them down until they hit the floor, underwear gone with them, and then Chris is back at it with more intensity and purpose than before. He’s done playing around. 

Chris has memorized the way Darren gets when he’s about to come. The taste of precome covers his tongue and it makes him greedy for more, whining a little because Darren is taking too long and his jaw is starting to hurt a little and he wants that mouthful now. 

“Impatient,” Darren laughs, but it twists into a moan when he sees Chris rubbing hard between his own legs and that’s enough. 

Darren sucks in a breath and his stomach goes tight and tense, face and chest ruddy and a little bit sweaty now, and then Chris can feel the first streak hitting his tongue with force behind it. It’s more than normal. They haven’t crossed paths as much in the past couple of days, between Chris having more rehearsals and Darren working on a new project with his friends, something they’re talking about turning into a web series. Even when they were both home together they’ve been hanging out with friends so late into the night that both of them were too tired for anything more than making out before bed. 

Chris files this away as a benefit to a little bit of unintentional anticipation building. He pulls off to swallow and Darren keeps going, trickling sluggishly down the still pulsing shaft and over Chris’s knuckles. 

He has just barely finished cleaning himself up when Darren is twisting around to grab the lube. His hand hovers over the drawer before he pulls it open and he gives Chris a questioning look. 

Chris nods, stroking himself slowly while he watches. He hadn’t thought this far ahead but since Darren is offering... 

He takes a little more time than normal stretching Darren out, because Darren is lax and lazy and loves it like this. He’d almost be sorry to stop fingering him if he didn’t know how much better the next part is. 

He puts a condom on and pushes in, drawing Darren’s legs up to rest over his shoulders. 

“Bendy,” Chris says, shuddering a little at the visual stimulation paired with the feeling of Darren tight around him. Everyone assumes that Chris is the more flexible one, but Darren has had years more dance classes to limber himself up and learn his limits. Those yoga classes with Lauren over the summer are probably doing him a few favors, too.

“You fucking know it,” Darren says. His voice is deep and rumbly. Chris leans forward and puts his hands on the bed beside Darren’s shoulders. Darren twists up so they can kiss, sloppy and both of them strained from the position until Chris scoots forward even more and then there is hardly an inch of space between them. He can’t get much range of motion like this but it’s enough, paired with Darren’s tongue and his dirty words and Chris is coming before Darren is even really hard again. 

The orgasm wrings out what little energy reserve Chris had and he slumps into bed and crawls under the covers after he’s tossed the condom away. Darren disappears for the brief but definitely required clean up and then turns the lights off on his way back through.

“You still didn’t tell me about the rehearsal...”

In the dark, Chris thinks, Darren’s voice sounds almost omnipresent, like it’s coming from every direction. 

“It went well,” Chris says. They shift around in the dark and find their places. It changes, most nights - how they start off, at least. They start out wrapped up in each other if they end up going to bed at the same time, sometimes with Darren curled into him, sometimes spooning, sometimes just facing each other with their arms touching. It’s usually disturbed when Chris wakes in the night. No matter how they fall asleep, in the morning they’ll wake on their own sides of the bed, brushing but not clinging unless Darren is feeling especially frisky, and then it’s a much more fun kind of waking up. For now, though, this is nice - Darren with his head on Chris’s shoulder, cuddling up to him. “I don’t know. Wait until tomorrow night and then you can figure out how well it went tonight. If we suck, then my judgement of what is good is clearly off. Or if _I_ suck.” 

Darren rubs a hand over Chris’s stomach and then up his chest. “You’re gonna be amazing.” 

“You’ve said that since before you even knew what part I got. Before I even knew I got a part,” Chris points out. “You’re biased. What if I trip? Or fall?”

“You won’t. But if you do, I’ll run up there and catch you.” 

“What if I forget all my lines?” 

“I’ll mouth them to you. Find me in the audience. I’ll be easy to spot, the one waving a foam finger that says #1 Chris fan.” 

Chris giggles, a looser noise than he’d make with anyone but Darren. “You are an idiot.” 

“Yup.” Darren sounds sleepier and sleepier. “But you’re still amazing.” 

Chris smiles. “Go to sleep.” 

* 

Chris wakes up the morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon and eggs. His stomach growls; he knows that he’s slept in past when he normally would.

He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, pausing to yawn widely and then rub his eyes. The sleep felt pretty great - his first uninterrupted night in a while, and he’s surprised by that. He’d sort of figured the night before his first play he wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all. 

He makes a mental note to mention the apparent sleep-related therapeutic powers of giving a blowjob before bed. He’s sure it will lead to some sort of joke about swallowing semen. He grins just thinking about it. 

As he grabs a shirt to put on, he realizes that he can hear Darren singing in the kitchen. The smile is still on his face as he puts two and two together and walks through the living room into the open door frame that leads to the kitchen. 

“Morning!” Darren beams at him. “I was hoping you’d sleep later and I could do the breakfast in bed thing, but this works.” 

“What can I do to help?” Chris peers at the stove top, covered in three pans. And, because Darren is right there and warm and smells good, he wraps one arm around him and presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Not a thing except sit.” Darren turns around and returns the hug, kissing Chris on the mouth. Then he pulls back and points to one of the stools along the island countertop. Chris tries to protest, but Darren just shakes his head. “I said sit!” 

Chris reluctantly steps away and sits as ordered. 

Darren checks the bacon again and then walks over to the fridge, fishing around before he pulls out a can of Diet Coke. He pops it open and then slides it over to Chris. 

“You do love me,” Chris manages to say before lifting the icy cold can to his lips and gulping. College (and Ashley) might have turned him into a coffee convert but his first drink of the day loyalties will always lie with his beloved Diet Coke. 

“Was that ever in question?” Darren has his back to Chris as he transfers scrambled eggs from pan to plate. 

His tone is still even but Chris pauses before answering, not sure how serious the question really is. Darren is an actor. He can hide things when he wants to, as Chris has learned in the worst sort of crash course scenario. 

“Not even for a second.” Chris thinks he might spot relief on Darren’s face when he turns around to give Chris a plate loaded down with breakfast. He protests, “I can’t eat all of this!” 

“Yes, you can. Because you are a growing boy and you need your nutrients.” Darren grins. “And then I need your nutrients.” 

And Chris didn’t even have to set that one up. Why does he ever doubt Darren’s ability? 

“I don’t think the saying is ‘bacon does a body good’,” Chris comments, biting into a slice. “But god, this tastes like heaven.” 

“Okay, you found me out, I’m handicapping you. My ego can’t handle you having another growth spurt. But you really like it? It’s good?” Darren wiggles back and forth in one of his pleased bursts of energy. “You know, I was gonna blow you after I surprised you with breakfast in bed.” 

“Yes, I really like it. And Isn’t there some sort of superstition about sex before you go on stage?” 

“Uh. If there is, it’s a _dumb_ one.” Joey walks in and immediately zeroes in on the food. “They call it getting lucky, not getting unlucky.”

Darren makes a grab for his own plate to make sure it doesn’t get poached, but gestures to Joey that he’s welcome to what is left on the stove. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard of a no blowjobs tradition,” Darren confirms. “And do you really want to turn it down? I’m like _thisclose_ to being able to deep throat.” 

Chris almost chokes on the bite of eggs he’s just taken. “Darren!” 

“Wowzers, okay, I’m still _here_ , you know that, right?” Joey looks pained, and maybe like he’s reconsidering his appetite. 

Darren makes a dismissive hand gesture. “Nothing you haven’t heard before.” 

“But before breakfast? I don’t know about your kind, D-Criss, but we are civilized folmmph-” 

The tirade is cut short by Darren turning and shoving a triangle of toast into Joey’s open mouth. “There. That’s breakfast. You are eating breakfast. Which means it is now during breakfast, not before.” 

“And _during_ breakfast is a perfectly acceptable time to discuss deep throating?” Chris asks. 

“Why not?” Brian pads in barefoot and scratching his belly, making a beeline for the stove to see if Joey has left any food. He grunts in satisfaction so he must find something still there. “I’m a fan, no matter the time of the day.” 

“Yeah, but it’s - _Darren_.” Joey makes a bleh noise and then steals the other half of the toast off of Darren’s plate, even though there is still a slice on his own. Darren glowers and moves around the island to the other side to sit by Chris. “Despite the number of times I’ve been exposed to his junk, I still prefer to maintain the illusion of a Ken doll like sexuality there.” 

“Hard and plastic? Hmm. Half right.” Darren’s eyebrows twitch up and down. 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Joey says. “You don’t make sense.” 

“He’s Darren. He never makes sense.” Brian leans back against the sink and eats. “Do you really expect him to?” 

The rest of breakfast devolves into a fifteen minute long discussion of meandering topics that somehow circles right back around to Darren’s inability to make sense by the end of it. 

“Well, I’ve had enough of this libelous slander,” Darren announces. He grabs his and Chris’s plates and then stacks them on top of Joey’s - still in Joey’s hand. “I’m gonna go blow my boyfriend for good luck now.” 

He drags a very much not protesting Chris along behind him back to the bedroom. 

* 

They spend an indulgent two hours in bed together. 

“So, you think this is going okay?” Darren asks. They’re naked and Chris is curled into him halfway to dozing again while Darren alternates between stroking his arm and toying with the hair there. 

“Hmm? Is what going okay?” Chris tries to remember the last actual thing they’d said, wondering if he’s missed something. 

“This. Us. Living together.” Darren’s voice drops, a little more serious. “I just wanted to check in. You know. Poll the audience.” 

“There is no audience.” Chris smiles, opening his eyes and yawning. “Just me.” 

“Well, poll the Chris, then.” Darren’s touch goes firm and sure, up to his bicep where the fingers curl loosely. “So? Put me out of my misery, what’s the verdict? Are you going to stay?” 

He remembers their original arrangement. They haven’t really talked about it much since then, but Chris is pretty sure it’s too late to get campus housing for the upcoming semester. Even at their tensest, he hadn’t thought there was a reason. 

He wonders if that’s what Darren had been leading up to earlier before their breakfast turned into a group affair. 

“I want to. Unless it’s not working for you.” 

“I love you here,” Darren says. He leans over and presses his mouth to Chris’s jaw. “I want to keep you.” 

“Yeah?” Chris smiles softly. “For how long?” 

“Long as you’ll let me. Forever sounds pretty good.” Darren tries to kiss him on the jaw again but Chris turns his head to bring their mouths together.

Darren can’t just _say_ things like that without Chris needing to kiss him. 

*

The mellow morning bleeds over into a hectic evening. Chris is in a panic over forgetting his lines or the staging or missing his cues. 

Darren hangs around backstage and no one blinks an eye at seeing him there, even if he isn’t in this one. He goes to find his seat ten minutes before curtain with a kiss for luck and a dirty promise as to what Chris can look forward to later. 

When Chris steps onstage for the first time he can see Darren there in the front row, sitting in amidst the rest of their friends. He doesn’t look at Darren again for the rest of the play, not for any of his scenes. 

When it’s over he rushes backstage with the rest of the cast and then they all break out into relieved, hectic, contagious laughter. It’s not long after before their friends come back to join them. 

Darren has the biggest smile on his face that Chris has maybe ever seen and he’s got his arms wrapped around a gift basket that makes Chris bury his hands in his face. All of the things are piled into a cardboard Diet Coke six pack box and he can spot at least two bottles of it and basically every kind of snack Chris loves with a couple of rock candy flowers poking out from between everything. It’s sort of a mess but that just makes it obvious that Darren made it himself, which somehow means more. Darren thrusts it out to him. “God, _Chris_ -” 

Chris knows realistically he didn’t even have that much of a role, but the way Darren is looking at him makes him feel like he’s a star anyway. He puts the charmingly homemade gift basket aside and crushes Darren to him in a hug that he never wants to end. 

*

It’s the last show of the summer and they’ve got a different twist on the after party. 

Chris is not new to the art of bowling; it’s actually something his family had done fairly regularly back in Clovis. He’s never done bowling like this, though. Actually winning seems to be less of the goal - making everyone else fall apart laughing while you take your turn is what it’s really about. He’s not even sure that anyone is paying attention to the score at all by their third game. 

Most of the cast and crew from the play have showed up but Chris falls into a group with the people he knows best. 

“Hey, Darren,” Joe shouts. “Remember when we played here?” 

“You played a bowling alley?” Chris asks, snickering. 

“No, I rocked out in a bowling alley,” Darren corrects him, not the least bit ashamed. “And they’d totally have had us back if not for the uh... the thing.” 

“The thing?” Chris asks. He looks around, because he knows he won’t get an answer from Darren. 

“The thing where he slept with the owner’s niece and then never called her back.” Jaime fills him in. 

Chris playfully shakes his finger at Darren. “Well, if she was that hot, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t play here but once.” 

Darren is busy making a face at Jaime for spilling the beans. Then he turns to Chris and says, “She was not as hot as you, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“Well, no one is.” Chris preens, then realizes the board is flashing his name and gets up to take his turn. 

* 

Two hours later, Chris is stuffed on burgers and beer, feeling drunk and happy as he leans on Darren. There are dozens of people stretched along one long table along the back of the burger joint attached to the bowling alley.

It’s been a good evening. Long, but good. Chris has come down from the adrenaline rush of being on stage and he’s just enjoying the moment for what it is. 

Darren is having a totally different conversation with someone a couple seats down the table, talking about indie bands that are coming to town and which concerts are don't miss. Chris only catches bits and pieces but he likes the way even though Darren isn't talking to him Darren's arm hasn't moved from around Chris's waist. His fingers occasionally flex or squeeze or tug on the fabric of Chris's shirt and Chris feels included without having to even try.

People start to leave one by one until there is a core crowd of cast and their closest friends left. Someone buys one more round but Chris peels himself away, not wanting to actually fall asleep and knowing he is in danger of it.

Dylan is the one that holds up his beer and says, "We kicked some goddamn ass, this one is to us!" in the last toast of the night.

Then they are getting up, putting on jackets and coats. People make plans to get together and ideas for projects that have even discussed are enthusiastically jotted into text messages and emails. There are hugs and more goodbyes and Chris is woozy on his feet by the time they finally make it outside.

The fresh air helps sober him up, though. Brian offers them a ride back home but Darren passes it by.

"Got somewhere I wanna take you," Darren explains to Chris. "Or are you too tired?"

"No, I'm fine," Chris says. Darren's arm slips from around his waist but it isn't so bad because he reaches down and tangles their fingers together.

Then he gets a little nervous because it's late at night and he's holding hands with a boy and the most grisly of news stories can start like this.

He doesn't let go, though.

"It's not far. There's just this place I found, I came here at night a few times just to play, like by myself. It's, um, I guess it's like the closest thing I've got to a spot here. Even though I haven't been in a year..."

Chris lets Darren ramble on, following his lead as they turn off the main street and onto a road barely wide enough for one car. At the end of that one is more of a path and as they walk down it Chris can see what he thinks has to be their destination - it’s a little park, no more than a patch of grass worn down to sandy dirt in spots with a rusting pair of see-saws, a red swingset with more chipped away spots than actual paint, and monkey bars with a blue slide attached that spirals down to the ground. There are also a couple of benches Chris starts to walk over to one of those but Darren grabs him and redirects him. 

He realizes Darren is taking him to the swings. “Sit,” Darren says, pointing to one of the seats. 

Chris smiles and sits down, wrapping his fingers around the thick, cool chains. He lifts his feet and kicks them back and forth a bit as Darren’s fingers find purchase on his back and he starts to pick. 

It’s exhilarating. He hasn’t been on a swingset in a while, probably a couple of years. He used to take Hannah to the park but by the time he was a senior in high school he’d been too occupied with buckling down on his schoolwork to try and get into Michigan to..  
He looks up at the night sky, clear of clouds with the stars shining brightly. The wind rushes past him and every time he dips back near the earth he can feel Darren’s touch. 

“Feels like flying,” Chris says, once he slows back down and the arcs become smaller and smaller. He recalls a line from a story that is as close to his heart as anything else and says under his breath, “There once was a boy who wanted to fly...” 

He isn’t exactly trying to whisper but he’s not saying it to Darren, either. Darren hears anyway and on crosses around in front of him and when he swings close grabs the chains just above where Chris’s fingers are. 

“Come here,” Chris says, dropping his hands down to Darren’s waist. Darren catches on quickly, straddling Chris’s lap and scooting in as close as the awkward arrangement of bodies will let him. Chris grabs the chains again and Darren wraps his arms around Chris’s shoulders to secure himself. Chris starts to swing them back and forth lightly. 

He tips his head up and Darren meets him with a kiss. One turns into two and then they’re making out sweetly, slowing to an almost stop but never completely still. 

“Chris...” Darren sighs out his name, pulling back enough that their mouths still brush together but not so close that he can’t talk. “Take me home?” 

“What do you want me to do to you once I take you home?” Chris’s pulse is thumping a little faster now. He likes it when Darren says the words, because Darren never shies away from it. 

Now is no disappointment. “I want you to lay me out on the bed and do whatever you want to me. I want to be yours.” 

“You are,” Chris says, and some tiny part of him cringes because it’s like a line out of a bad romance novel, but in the moment it feels utterly true. Darren kisses him and scratches his fingers along Chris’s back where a stretch of skin is exposed above his jeans and every place they touch feels like a livewire. Chris gives in to it. “You are mine, and I’m going to fuck you.” 

The word feels like it curls off of his tongue, illicit and dirty for the setting. But not for them. He says fuck but he means make love; that’s just not a phrase they use, not one they need to. Doing means more than saying, and Chris has every intention of showing Darren how much he is loved tonight. 

*

They stop at the top of the stairs to the apartment and share more kisses, giggling to each other and feeling every bit like they’re sneaking in after curfew. The entire apartment is dark and Brian and Joey have likely been in bed for hours. They tiptoe through the living room and then stop when Darren pushes Chris against a wall, laughter turning into gasping want. Their shoes are sacrifices left behind before they even hit the hallway, socks yanks off by their front door. They’ll get some teasing for that, but Chris considers it a victory that they save as much of the undressing for their bedroom as they actually do. 

He keeps his promise and when Darren is naked and on his back he does what he wants, takes what he wants. It’s a long drawn out tease for Darren but it makes the noise he lets out when Chris finally touches his dick even more toe-curlingly impressive. 

(He hopes Brian and Joey both have their ear plugs in tonight, but he’s not concerned enough to make Darren quiet down.) 

Foreplay stretches over thirty minutes, and it seems like an eternity since they really began this in the park. Chris is achingly hard by the time he crawls his way up the bed and kisses Darren on the mouth again. 

“Do you wanna...” He asks, without saying it, if Darren wants to take the reigns now. 

Darren shakes his head. Chris has only bottomed again once. They both sort of realize that while Darren enjoys that he _can_ now and it’s not by any means a bad experience for either of them, Chris doesn’t get quite as much out of having something in him as Darren does. “You, I want you in me.” 

There is something a little off - maybe not off, maybe just different from what Darren puts out there for everyone, everyday. So much of himself fits into that category that sometimes Chris forgets there are parts that no one sees, parts that Chris only glimpses once in a while.

Those are the parts he needs to pay attention to closest, he’s realizing. 

Chris rolls to the side, propping himself up. “What is it? Why... this? Tonight?” 

_This_ could mean a lot of things, but thankfully Darren gets it without Chris having to explain that he’s asking about the park, about what Darren had said there, about the look in his eyes right now. 

“Just... you.” Darren looks at him with intensity. “You were just so amazing up there. You blew me away. I was just sitting there looking at you and it hit me like, wow, Chris. You are gonna do such amazing things, and I really hope I’m gonna get to be the one by your side when you do.” 

Chris blinks back tears. “There is no one else I want with me.” 

Darren reaches up and cups his cheek. “I have never been more in love with anyone in my life than I am with you right now.” 

“Darren. I love you, too,” Chris says. He grabs the lube and the condom and settles against Darren’s body. His voice echoes his thoughts earlier, that he needs to _show_ Darren. He shows him with fingers stretching him open, with kisses and touches impossibly gentle everywhere, with the eventual push inside until he’s buried as deep as he can go in Darren’s body. 

Darren goes uncharacteristically silent, and then something sort of jump starts inside of him and he’s groaning and moving his hips up to meet every thrust Chris makes. It’s a flawless give and take, relying on the familiarity they have with each other and how they move. They change positions when Chris starts to want more, and deeper, when he wants to be able to kiss and fuck at the same time, they stop and start to make it last longer but eventually they’re both sweat-slick and out of breath and teetering on the edge. Chris comes first but he manages to jerk Darren through it and his orgasm has barely finished when Darren’s starts, making a mess between their bodies and over Chris’s hand. 

Chris slumps down half on top of Darren and half beside him, mindless of the bodily fluids smearing everywhere. These sheets weren’t going to make it through the night without being changed, anyway - there’s lube everywhere because neither of them were in a mind to be particularly careful with it. He proves his disregard by wiping his hand off on the spot beside Darren, which for some reason makes Darren laugh. Chris just smiles lazily back. He feels tingly all over and perfect, still warm with aftershocks and afterglow and so perfectly happy to be in his boyfriend’s arms right now. 

It’s his favorite place to be, he thinks, resting his head against Darren’s shoulder. This is home.


End file.
